


The Tragic Romance of Mairon (Romantic Version)

by Sid Kemp (SidKemp)



Series: Tragic Romance of Mairon (2 versions) [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Courtly Love, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidKemp/pseuds/Sid%20Kemp
Summary: How the greatest of the Maiar broke his heart and came under the evil spell of Melkor





	The Tragic Romance of Mairon (Romantic Version)

**Author's Note:**

> If you are unfamiliar with the Valar and Maiar, particularly Yavanna, Mairon/Sauron, and Aule, please see the endnotes before reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

# The Tragic Romance of Mairon

Romantic Version

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

by [Sid Kemp (SidKemp)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SidKemp/pseuds/Sid%20Kemp)

 

## The Tragic Romance of Mairon

 Romantic Version

 

Mairon was a faithful student of Aule who shared in all his works and learned all he could. First they forged the earth itself, drawing up veins of gold and silver and mithril as they raised mountains out of the magma in the heart of Arda, and forming hidden chambers where gasses crystallized into gems. Then they retired together to deep caverns to work magic and work as smiths, leaving Yavannah, Aule's spouse, creator of light and trees, to wander alone. Their hammers rang against the anvil as they shaped hot metal, the bell-like pounding sometimes in synchrony, other times syncopated, but always in deep harmony, as when they had pounded great drums during the Song of the Ainur. Then, though, the sound had spread out across the great hall blending with music from hundreds of others. Now, it was just the two of them and the echoes of their hammers reverberating inside rocky walls. The music of two alone touched Mairon's Soul in a way he could not name. They began in darkness, working by subtle touch. Aule, silent as always, did not tell Mairon what they were making, so Mairon copied the work in silent obedience. When it was done, it was shaped of mithril and gold, in rings of thin metal a handspan in depth, and with strange protrusions shaped something like flowers. The rings were chained to one another so that, when Aule lifted them to the ceiling of their vault, they hung concentric in a cone, smallest end down. Then Aule drew forth a hidden gift from Yavanna, a spark of light, and set it gently to each flower, so each flower glowed with light and the light reflected off the silver and gold and passed through diamonds and quartz crystals that Aule had added without Mairon's knowledge. Not only were these great chandeliers - the word rose in Mairon's mind out of the Song long ago - beautiful, but the whole cavern now glittered and glimmered with veins of precious metals and hints of hidden jewels. Aule himself shone with new beauty, elevated by his own work, and Mairon did so as well, though he saw himself not. Aule looked upon Mairon's inner light shining forth and smiled a rare smile. Mairon had no words for the love that poured forth from him. This moment was, for him, greater than the Song itself.

Aule and Mairon worked again, until they had created seven great chandeliers in seven hidden mountain halls under mountains scattered across Middle-earth. Mairon felt that their works were greater than any that had yet been wrought by the Valar, greater even than the Two Trees of Yavannah lit by light of Elbereth. Aule lifted the chandelier into the vault of the seventh cavern and let Mairon bring forth the light. "This is the last," Aule said, and Mairon found himself full of anticipation for the next forging. Surely they would make beautiful furniture for these glimmering halls, or something more, arising from the endless imagination of Aule's craft. Perhaps, thought Mairon, trees can grow in this light. Thinking of trees, Mairon remembered Yavannah the beautiful, creator of trees, who they had left so long alone.

Aule spoke, "Mairon, now there is another work I must do, and I must do it alone. Your apprenticeship is done. You are a Master now, in your own right."

"Surely I am not now of the Valar," said Mairon, letting a secret hope leak from his heart.

"No," laughed Aule, "that cannot be. The nature of a Soul cannot be changed, unless by Eru himself. But as we grow in skill, we grow in freedom. Where once you could only learn and imitate, now you can imagine and create. Go forth and create much beauty, and create your destiny."

"And you, my Lord?"

"I have a destiny I must fulfill alone."

Confused to his core, Mairon fled.

The sensible thing to do was simple and clear: Set up a workshop with his own forge and begin to make things. He could imitate past works until creativity opened his spirit. But this Mairon could not do, for he feared what he would create. He knew that creativity comes from the heart, and he feared his own heart.

During the Song, Mairon had played his part in Aule's section of the orchestra in good form, but not in good faith. His heart yearned for the strident sounds of Melkor's rebellion.  His love of Aule saved him then; and that love came to fulfillment assisting him in the creation of the seven illumined caverns. But he knew that if he created on his own, the dark thing within him would create, and he was terrified. He gave this darkness in his heart a name: Sauron, the abhorred. But he told no one.

One moment he fell into terror and secrecy. The next moment, he had forgotten it altogether. He just felt that he wasn't ready to build his own forge and that he wanted to wander. Yearning for sunlight and fresh air, he meandered towards Valinor, favoring fields with noisy streams over frozen stony mountains. In time, he crossed the mountains into Valinor and descended into woodlands, wandering.

As Mairon descended, a shadow fell upon his heart. Something in him called him back to the mountains. He closed his eyes and saw a forge and a cave and his destiny. He opened his eyes to forget. A sound reached him and charmed his ears. It was like unto birds singing, but moreso; like a flute made in imitation of birdsong. Yet there was more; If flowers opening as dew vanished from their leaves were a song, the sound was there; so also were the softening of a crunchy frost on the Earth, and a promise of dawn's light and gentle showers.

Enchanted, Mairon entered the forest and followed the sound. There, in a glade, he saw Yavannah dancing. She danced as a tree would dance, if trees could dance. Then he understood. He heard not a flute in imitation of songbirds, but the fluting voice of which birdsong is a faint echo. Yavannah, lover of woodlands and creator of all living things rooted in the Earth was singing in the spring.

In that moment, he loved her.

He stood in silence, listening and watching, enraptured but impatient. Outwardly, he shone with the patience of an orchestra musician absorbed in love of the music and waiting for the chord that would mark his entry into the Song, but inwardly, his mind was like a ravening wolf.  _I wait, he thought, only for the moment that will ensure victory._

Yavannah sang, and, singing, banished her loneliness. She was like unto a tree that had lived so long that its own roots had long ago crumbled the rock on which it was born into gravel and sand, and, dropping leaves year after year, now knew only soil and yet still yearned for the Rock she had once embraced. That rock was Aule, forger of mountains, now far away in caverns beneath the Earth. Still she yearned for him, but her roots were deep in the soil she made of his crumbled rock, and she was at peace. She paused her song to stand rooted and listen.

Yavannah and Mairon, her unaware of him, listened to the same silence. Only it was not silence, for Yavannah's song had awakened the song of the woodland. Birds courted. Tree leaves shook in faint breezes. Small animals came out to look at the light that shone now that the fog had lifted. And something else. Yavannah noted a presence, not of plant or animal, but of spirit. It was a familiar presence, yet not exactly as she had known it before. Some angel grew or changed since she saw it last.

Mairon sensed Yavannah's awareness of him and drew a beautiful body around himself. He stepped to the edge of the glade and raised his arms, honoring her.

"Mairon," said Yavannah, "How bright you've grown."

"Yavannah," he replied in silky sweetness, "Ever the same, and ever new."

"You are alone."

"No, no longer, for I have found you here, singing this sweet glade into new life." He stood long in silence until a tear rolled down one cheek. "But you are thinking of Aule, of course. Long I worked with him in seven caverns deep across this wide world. But when we were done our work, he would not come with me. He said that he had another, greater work, he had to do alone. He released me from his service."

"And . . ."

"And I do not know where he is. I felt lost without him, as you certainly must. I wandered long under the sun. Your woodlands and birds comforted me in my loneliness, and then I heard your song and your dance drew me in rapture."

Long they stood together, then dropped their bodies and flew to the clouds in spirit, playfully chasing the Eagles of Manwe. It was dance without purpose and, therefore, in its own way, perhaps even more beautiful that the Song of Creation itself. And it was, perhaps, the first dalliance in the history of the world. Yavannah found laughter and ease she had not felt since she was with Aule. There was no forgetfulness of him, but there was forgetfulness of his absence. Something was filling and fulfilling her. She did not know what it was, but, in fact, it was simple. It was the attention she yearned for her in her loneliness. And, in Yavannah, it was innocent.

As far as Mairon knew, his dance was innocent. But Mairon no longer knew himself. Sauron, impatient, was growing inside and guiding his actions. He could not become a Vala, and he dared not touch his own creative essence, but he hoped to be like Aule in another way. He hoped to replace Aule in Yavannah's heart.

Sauron was careful, of course. As far as Mairon knew, it was a courtly love. It would echo through the ages all the way down to Lancelot and Guinevere, to Dante and Beatrice. Mairon loved Yavannah and was inspired by love, and knew he could not possess her. Although the Valar cannot have children, he was as close to being Aule's son as was possible. The Ainur, though, dwell in the present moment. They dance their dance each moment with no thought of right or wrong, and rightness flows from their songs and their dances.

Slowly, Sauron's mind crept into Mairon's. Sauron saw through Mairon's eyes, heard through his ears, smelled through his nose. And so Sauron's dark dreams, desires, and desperation could not but flow in return into Mairon. Through the laws of nature, in an inner tide, Mairon and Sauron began to become one. And so Mairon began to see through Sauron's eyes, and to see only what he wanted to see. He forgot the forge beneath the mountain entirely. All memories were replaced by Yavannah's laugh, her song, her eyes. Dancing with her forever was all that he wanted. All, he thought, that was destined to be.  Finally, he confessed his heart to her and pleaded with her to leave the inattentive Aule who had abandoned her and begin anew with himself, Mairon, who truly loved her.

Yavannah laughed. "You know that could never be!" 

Yavannah could see her marriage bond as clearly as she could see Aule himself. The eternal was quite visible to her, and the bond of marriage is eternal. She could not imagine that Mairon could not see the obvious.

But back in the times of the Song of the Ainur, Mairon had been secretly drawn to the strident chords of Melkor's music. He wove them subtly into his own playing so that none noticed. But is so doing, he lost his true ear and his true eye. And now Yavannah was laughing at him, saying surely he knew that they could never be. She could not understand him. He could not understand her. Finally, in her frustration, she said, "If you cannot see that what you desire is impossible, speak to Namo the Judge. He shall set forth the rightness of the matter."

Mairon fled in shame, but he did not go to Mandos. He had lost his heart, and all he thought of was power. So he sought out Melkor and bared his heart to him, thinking that only Melkor had the power to bewitch Yavannah, to make her forget her oath of marriage to Aule, to love Mairon, only Mairon.

Melkor, of course, had no interest in any such thing. But he was willing to lie. So he feigned pity on Mairon's broken heart and wove a spell upon Mairon, one which he said would make Yavannah love him. And indeed, it was a spell of love and devotion. But all it did was bind Mairon's heart to Melkor, cruel servant of a cruel lord. And thus both slipped further into Darkness.

## Afterword

**Author's Note:**

> All the background you need for this story is in The Silmarillion, most of it in a short section at the beginning called "The Valaquenta," that is the account of the Valar, the great angelic, godlike beings who serve Eru the One Creator and who created the world in which we live. Or, if you prefer, you can type the name of each character into the fan encylopedia The One Wiki To Rule Them All (https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> Yavannah Kelementari created trees and all living plants, and is the wife of Aule, the Smith, who made the mountains of the world and also the Dwarves.
> 
> Namo is the proper name of the one called Mandos. Mandos is actually his home, and the Ring of Mandos there is the place of judgment among the Valar.
> 
> Melkor was the greatest of the Valar, but he fell into darkness, wishing to take the role of the One Creator, rather than serve. After that, he was named Morgoth.
> 
> The fifteen Valar are served by countless Maiar, lesser angels, but each still of great power. Greatest among these is one who was once called Mairon, "The Admirable," who fell and was later called Sauron, "The Abhorred," chief lieutenant of fallen Morgoth. Sauron was also the chief antagonist of The Lord of the Rings, as, after the fall of Morgoth, Sauron sought to rule the world in darkness forever, enslaving the Free Peoples of Middle-earth.
> 
> Why did Sauron fall into darkness? Might it have been a tragic matter of the heart?


End file.
